


Braving the Horrors

by LovingMarvel



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Pretty Little Liars, Pretty Little Liars Series - Sara Shepard
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovingMarvel/pseuds/LovingMarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The annual Hunger Games arrive once again and Aria, Hanna, Emily, and Spencer are all wrenched out of their Districts and forced to fight to their bloody demises. Will they survive as they strive to stand tall as Victor? Who is the mysterious perpetrator that is trying so hard to drive the girls insane along the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reassurance

Aria: District One

My annoying alarm clock startles me awake. I roll over and quickly put an end to the noisy buzzing with my fist. Then I cringe, realizing the racket I must have created. But Mike only moans quietly in protest of the new day and shifts beside me. I glance across the room at our mother, Ella, who continues to snore. _That could have ended up worse._ I tell myself. I roll back over to face Mike and my eyes catch the tiny bit of sunrise shining through the window above our bed. I smile tiredly. I love watching the sunrise in the morning, well, when I get up that early. I peer back down at Mike. His eyes are now wide open and watching me.

“Aria,” He whispers worriedly, “It’s Reaping day.” My heart drops. I almost forgot. _Deep breaths, Aria._

“Yes, I know.” Then a sigh.

“Are you going to make breakfast?” He murmurs, to not awaken Ella. I nod. _I would never forget to make breakfast._ Mike grins weakly although his lips tremble as he leaps out of bed. Mike and I have to share a bed, although, I do not mind. We’ve been bunking together since we were small. Then I too get out of bed and meet Mike in the kitchen. He’s already gotten the ingredients out. I grin at his eagerness.

“You remember how to slice the potatoes, right?” I ask. He nods quickly.

“Just as you’ve been teaching me.” I can tell he is proud of his recently newfound knowledge of cooking his favorite breakfast. I watch my little brother as he carefully cut the potatoes. I watch him mostly. His eyes are wide and tired. Without meaning to, my hand caresses his cheek. He jumps slightly as if he’s nervous.

“You haven’t slept.” It wasn’t a question but he continues to prepare the potatoes. He shakes his head.

“I couldn’t, too worried.” He admits. I try to smile but my lips quiver, instead, I purse my lips.

“Me too.” I remove my lingering hand and focus my attention to finishing the rest of breakfast. With the frying pan over heat, I pour milk into the bottom of the pan. Next, I shred the cheese and add that into the milk. I have been teaching Mike how to cook for a while now. Ever since I thought that we might have to go and fight the games. If I have to go, then at least Mike can provide for Ella because she certainly cannot. “Are you finished with the potatoes?” I ask Mike, leaning over to see his work. He beams proudly back at me and scrapes the sliced rounds into the pan. “Go on.” I motion with the wooden spoon. “Stir it.” He takes the spoon in my hand and begins to mix it all around. I tousle his hair playfully. But Mike turns to a more serious note.

“I don’t want you to leave, Aria. I would miss this. You being here for me. I don’t want to leave.” Mike says it so quietly that I stop. I turn to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“I won’t and neither will you, don’t worry so much, little brother.” I try to say it jokingly but it comes out more choked. I keep my expression steady as I step away from him to retrieve the dishes.

“Are you okay?” He questions. He knows that he’s upset me on this touchy subject.

“Yeah, fine.” I reply, my back to him. I wipe my eyes. Nothing gets me more teary eyed than my own younger brother trying to comfort me. I am the sister, I should be comforting _him_. Crouching down, I take out three mismatched plates and three forks from the cabinet. “Don’t worry,” I add, “there are a lot of other willing people to take our place, even if we do get called up.” He shrugs, keeping his eyes down at the food.

“I suppose, but you never know.” He replies quietly. Then Ella shuffles in, hair sticking up every which way. She yawns and moves towards me.

“Smells wonderful.” She murmurs, kissing my temple. She does the same to Mike with an added squeeze of the shoulders.

“Good morning, Ella.” I reply politely as I set the table. Ella plops down at the table and yawns again.

“How is work, Mike?” She suddenly asks. Mike shrugs again then sighs. He started working at one of the many factories for Capitol luxuries a few months back to help support our family. I help by laundering others clothing as well as going to school. I have a suspicion that Ella doesn’t do anything with her time while we are gone, probably reminisce about Byron, her husband and our father. Maybe she is still hurting from when he died even though it has been years.

“Well, I haven’t been injured yet. Or sucked into a machine.” Mike answers glumly.

“Indeed.” Ella nods. I hurry over to Mike and the stovetop.

“Lovely.” I grin, turning off the stove. Mike shreds the last minute cheese on top just as I previously instructed him and he carries the pan to the table. As we all dig into the meal, I find that I cannot eat much. It smells so good but my appetite depletes by the second. I cannot think straight. I feel sick and I excuse myself from the table to go lay down. Awhile later, Mike comes to me.

“We have to get dressed.” He says. The noises of Ella washing dishes from the other room drowns out our conversation. I want to sob. I don’t want to go and leave them but I have this strong feeling that that is exactly what is going to happen. I desperately grasp Mike’s hand and pull him down onto the bed beside me. “What is it, Aria?” He asks, waiting eagerly. His eyes are so worried and at the same time so understanding. _I am the older sister, this is not supposed to happen._ But contrary to what I have been telling myself, I begin to cry into Mike’s shoulder. Ugly sobs rack my body and my brother rubs my back soothingly. Beginning to calm down, I sit up. “A wise girl once told me not to worry because there are a lot of other willing people to take our place, even if we do get called up.” He strokes my cheek. I nod, taking a shaky breath. “We should get dressed.” He adds. Again, I nod, then stand.

Mike’s reassurance doesn’t make me feel any better, though. Unlike most kids our age, we are not training to be careers. Frankly, I am terrified of being chosen even though, in District One, my chances are nearly at zero because of all the volunteers. Even though… the thought still frightens me. Although, there are those very rare years where no one volunteers because their training is not over.

Mike drags me back to my senses when he pulls the large, dusty brown box out from under our bed. Again, I take a deep breath and I finally feel calmed down. He plops the box on the bed and removes the cover. I inhale quickly. I always love seeing the lovely pastel green velvet dress that Byron originally gave to Ella as a wedding gift. Even though seeing the dress means only two things: death or Reaping day. You can imagine how wealthy he must have been. Turning away from Mike, I slip out of my clothes and pull the dress on over my head. The material feels so wonderful against my bare skin. I glance over my shoulder at Mike who is buttoning his pants.

“Can you zip me up?” I ask. He nods and steps closer. I brush my hair out of the way and he zips it. “Thanks.”

“Don’t forget the rest.” He replies. I turn to the box. I always forget that there is also a pearl necklace and matching bracelet and white slip on shoes. I smile. I love wearing all these fancy clothes, I feel so elegant. I add the finishing items and glance into the mirror. I sigh. My dark hair is piled up in a messy bun, strands of hair hanging down in my face. I brush them back with my hand. I look beautiful in a tragic way, like I am later going to my own funeral, which in a way I guess I am. Mike comes up behind me to look at his reflection and I retreat to our bed. Since Ella ran over to a friend’s house quickly, I strike up a conversation with Mike.

“You look nice in Byron’s suit.” I say. He glances back at me in the mirror.

“You are lovely as well, Aria.” Then I feel the tears in my throat again. I launch myself up at Mike. He catches me in his arms.

“I am so scared.” I whimper into his shoulder. Tears streak my face. “If anything happens to me, I love you, Mike.” He holds me comfortingly.

“I love you, too, Aria.” He murmurs. We are silent until Ella walks in the front door. We pull away from each other and I wipe my face. She obviously realizes something is wrong but dismisses it. We don’t have time right now. “Ready to go to the Square?” She asks us both. We nod and she walks back out. I grab Mike’s hand and we walk out together. _We will brave the horrors together. All I ask is that Mike will be safe at home._


	2. Whipped

Hanna: District Four

I breathe in. _Inhale._ And out. _Exhale._ I keep repeating this to myself in my thoughts as I walk beside my mother to the center square of District Five. I glance over at her but she’s staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched tightly, her eyes worried. I know from experience that she is only focusing on an ultimate goal. Go to the Reaping. Hope I do not get chosen. Go home. She isn’t paying attention to my presence, even though I am the one at risk.

I feel like a child walking with her to the square. Even though most families walk there together on Reaping day, in fear of their loved ones leaving. I still feel out of place, though. I feel too old, too tall around the younger children. But just as scared as everyone else.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a crowd forming near the square and it sparks my curiosity. I wander away from my mother who doesn’t even realize my absence with all the thoughts going on in her head. As I venture closer to the crowd, I hear pained screams and tortured wails. My nose scrunches in contemplation as I attempt to determine whose cries they belong to. I push through the people, peering over the heads of everyone towering in front. On my tiptoes I can just barely tell that there is a whipping in the center. Looking closer I realize that person that is receiving the whipping is a boy I recognize. The realization stings and I take a step backwards disbelieving what my eyes are seeing. Lucas.

My Lucas. The Lucas I secretly dated last year is being whipped before my very eyes.

The cruel Peacekeeper draws his arm back and brings the whip down on Lucas’s back once more and Lucas arches his back, crying out in agony. It is surprising that he is still conscious, considering all the lashes painted on his bare back. The Peacekeeper wipes Lucas’s blood off the whip and waves the liquid off his hand. It splatters the ground as well as his already bloodied uniform. I cover my opened mouth with both hands, holding back a horrified scream. My eyes water and the picture before me blurs. I’m glad that I can no longer see what has been unveiled in front of me.

A man finally notices me observing behind him and shields me from seeing any more of the scene. “Get out of here, girl.” He commands sternly. It’s cruel they watch him, but it is uncommon for a younger person to be whipped in the square. My eyes dart up past him and I hear the next lashing and Lucas shout. I hardly think that he’ll even make it through the night, without any proper apothecaries in our District.

Lucas is dying, he had always talked about acting out as a bad boy to see how it felt. A ridiculous thing for him to have said.

_“I’ve always wanted to be a bad boy.” Lucas brags, grinning._

_“Why would you want that?” I ask, leaning closer to him, both intrigued and confused._

_“It would be so cool. I would be cool.” He sighs, leaning against the wall. I scoot closer to him so our shoulders touch. He seems happy just thinking about it._

_“You are cool, though, Lucas.” He gives me with a look that says ‘you have got to be kidding me’. I quickly add._

_“Well, aren’t you kind of a bad boy for going out with me?” He shrugs._

_“It’s not really the same.” “_

_Well, what do you mean then, Lucas?” He turns to face me. Looking at my eyes, then lips._

_“I want to escape.” I frown._

_“What do you mean by that?”_

_“Into the forest, of course. Think of it. Beyond the Districts, in the woods.” He smiles even wider. “And I want to take you with me.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it excitedly._

_“You want us to run off together?” I question slowly. Lucas nods enthusiastically, holding my shoulders._

_“This places sucks. We can start our own family in the woods. I can learn how to hunt. Wouldn’t that be great?” I glance away momentarily, unsure._

_“Anywhere is better than here.” I finally reply._

_“So you will?” I nod with a small smile. Lucas kisses me long and passionately. It has always been like this since we’ve been together. He produces a crazy plan that nine out of ten times would get us killed and I uncertainly agree. And then he kisses me._

He finally got what he wanted and now he is tied to a post by his wrists, kneeling on a stage as an unforgiving Peacekeeper whips him mercilessly. _I wonder what wild scheme finally got him caught._ I shake my head desperately.

_No._

Lucas is whipped once, twice, thrice more and he falls limp.

“Go!” The man booms. I bolt away from the man, from Lucas, bawling my eyes out. I am a coward.

“Hanna!” A panicked shriek rises up over the sounds from the whipping. By the time I look up I am already in someone’s arms. I grasp his or her shirt, not caring who it is at the moment. Besides, my tears are blurring my vision enough that I cannot tell whose face it is. The person holds me firmly in place. “Don’t scare me like that. I heard talk of a whipping and I naturally assumed the worse after I realized you ran off. I was terribly worried, Hanna!” My mother scolds with a note of sadness and relief. I stay quiet except for the occasional sniffle.

She doesn’t ask who was receiving the lashing and I don’t supply the name. Of course, if she even asked at all, I wouldn’t tell her that I knew Lucas, well, or at all for that matter.

“Come on now, Hanna, let’s go to the square now.” My mother kisses the top of my head and holds me close as we slowly make our way to the center square. As I wipe my eyes I glance around and see hundreds of frowning faces.

Everyone is dressed in somewhat elegant dress wear, if it is afforded. But I cannot focus on their attire for very long because their expressions are so intense and full of so many emotions that I cannot even begin to describe. They pierce any beauty perceptions straggling along behind.

The only thing I wear worth mentioning is an ornate owl broach given to my mother from her mother to me. I didn’t personally know her but the stories my mother told me as I grew up made me wish I had.

It is just my mother and me now.

There are lips pressed against my temple, startling me to the present.

“Good luck, Hanna, and farewell for now.” She says. I nod as she caresses my cheek before parting.

I am left standing, waiting to be corralled like an animal according to age group. As soon as I am surrounded with girls in my designated section, I stand up on my tiptoes to search for Sean.

Sean is my approved boyfriend of both his and my families. We meet eyes at the same moment and he gives me a small wave. I return it and add a weak smile. And then I return to my normal height and sigh.

My gaze finds the stage and the two large, glass bowls sitting obediently on wooden pedestals. The amount of slips for both girls and boys this year is overwhelming. My name is only entered the required number for my age plus a few more because we were running low on supplies. They determine the fate of two more children this year. Well, condemn them to death, really. Not like the Capitol really cares, it’s just entertainment for them. To the Districts the Hunger Games is the definition of terror and just a way to keep us in line.

The Capitol anthem begins to play and silence hangs in the air. While it plays I peer around the people beside me to get a good look at Sean again. As if he was expecting me to be watching him, he’s was searching for my eyes as well. He gives me his best calm face he can. Although, from this far away I can still see the terror in his eyes. _He has no reason to worry. He has never entered any more slips than he had to._ I think to myself. _Unless he’s just now remembering all the slips I have entered._ A slight reassuring smile tugs at his lips before he faces the stage again. I do the same.

I take in a deep breath. _Inhale._ And let it out slowly. _Exhale._

The Anthem finally comes to an end and the Reaping officially begins.


End file.
